


Aperture

by korras_sports_bra



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korras_sports_bra/pseuds/korras_sports_bra
Summary: Max thought she could convince herself that letting Chloe die was the right thing to do. But in the end, she couldn't follow through. Instead, she works to make things right in a new timeline, proving that Chloe is worth fighting for--even if she has to take the bullet.Alternate ending/fix-it fic because years of being salty about the game's endings have led me to rewrite the entire plot, let's go!





	1. Time Does Not Heal All Wounds

 

To anyone else, this would’ve been a dream sprung to life. To wake up one day with the ability to control time; you could avoid awkward conversations, you could relive happy moments as many times as you wanted. There are no limits to the things you could alter.

To Max, this was a nightmare, and she just wanted all of it to end.

 

With a flash of her polaroid, she stumbled back, her spine hitting the hard plastic of a door--a stall door. She felt the fabric of her pants and shirt, expecting damp, rain-soaked clothes, or at the very least mud on her shoes. But her converse were as dirty as any teenager’s shoes would be. The knees of her pants were wrinkled, but untouched by even a speck of dust. She was back to wearing her dusted pink Jane Doe shirt, gray hoodie, and her bag was slung over her shoulder like a dead weight. She instinctively reached up to grasp her bullet necklace, but all she felt was her collar bone. Her shoes scuffed against the linoleum floor, nudging the photo she’d just taken...in the girl’s bathroom.

 

_...No._

 

A flicker of a blue wing floated off the lip of a silver bucket at Max’s feet. She whipped her head and found that little blue butterfly as it fluttered away from the flash of her camera. It escaped through the window, but instead of sunlight and the trees in the courtyard--there was a barrier of light pulsing slowly against the pane of frosted glass, keeping Max in place.

 

Trapped in the room where Chloe would die.

 

Her throat tightened, and her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as she slowly slid down to the floor. Her eyes welled and tears fell against her cheeks as she dully cried in shock. The haze in her head cleared as she remembered Chloe, drenched in rainwater, wind howling so loud it felt like a million bombs detonating.

 

The weight of agonizing déjà vu and overlapping memories hit her like a cement block; Seeing the storm, barreling toward Arcadia Bay, the tears glossing over Chloe’s eyes as she blinked through the rain at Max.

 

Chloe, who told Max to promise that she would never forget her.

 

Chloe, whose face screamed sorrow as Max became her executioner.

 

Max felt the ache in her chest as the squeaky hinges of the bathroom door reverberated throughout the room, followed by quick footsteps. Nathan Prescott frantically paced by the sinks, checking the stalls, mumbling to himself. Max’s head hurt at the painful familiarity of the situation, how he tried to talk himself down from his fervent temper, leaning on the edge of the sink as he stared into the mirror and muttered about blowing up the school.

The door opened a second later.

 

It all fell into place like clockwork. Max covered her mouth to stifle the sob bubbling in her throat. The words exchanged between Chloe and Nathan felt like knives against her temples, so familiar and so horribly painful. Max held her head in her hands in a fruitless effort to comfort herself.

 

_Please, just let it be over with._

 

Nathan’s voice boomed and Max clutched her head tighter.

 

“You don’t know who the fuck I am or who you’re messing around with!”

 

_I don’t want this._

 

The thought flew through her brain and stuck there like a bug caught in flypaper. She dug her nails into her hairline as if she could tear it from her skull.

 

 _It needs to happen,_ countered another thought.

 

“Where’d you get that?”

 

_I don’t want it to!_

 

“What are you doing?”

 

_Shut up! This is her fate, it NEEDS to happen._

 

“Come on, put that thing down!”

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t want this, I don’t want this._

 

“Don’t EVER tell me what to do!”

 

_She’s going to die. I could stop it if I wanted to--_

 

“I’m so SICK of people trying to control me!”

 

_Shut the hell up and let it happen, it was always meant to be this way._

 

“You’re going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.”

 

“Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?”

 

_That’s not true--that’s NOT true!_

 

She couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Adrenaline had successfully taken over and willed Max to round the corner, holding her hand out instinctively. She screamed at the top of her lungs, tears rolling down her face.

 

“STOP!”

 

The gun fired, loud as ever.

 

It pierced the room and echoed violently off the tiles, threatening to shatter the mirrors. Her ears rang with a high-pitched squeal, like the sound effects they play in movies when the bad-ass main character accidentally detonates a bomb or something...sans the throbbing pain in her eardrums. The next thing she could make out was the feeling of being pushed backward, left shoulder first as if someone forcibly shoved her-- _hard_. She stumbled back on her heels, stunned if anything. She was confused as to why her shoulder was so hot and tender...and wet? Her right hand brushed over where her heart was and pulled back. She frowned, blinked, then looked again. It was hard to tell; her vision was going in and out of focus.

 

Blood...It was too much blood...

 

_...Oh. Oh, shit..._

 

The only time she’d remembered seeing that much blood was when she was three or four; she’d jumped from her grandma’s couch, and after a severe tongue lashing prompting her not to do that in the first place, she moved to get down. Instead, she slipped and bonked her jaw against the antique coffee table. Granted, that’s when she’d bitten a good chunk out of her tongue and the blood was so close to her face.

 

This? This was getting fucking shot.

 

Max looked back up with a sensation of falling through the floor. The gun had fallen out of Nathan’s hand, just as Chloe shoved him into the sinks and ran toward Max. She yelled something, but it was hard to hear anything beyond the point of the gun firing. Chloe couldn’t catch her as she fell on her arm, but she could feel her holding her, squeezing her so tight that her shoulder burned with a nasty, shocking pain.

 

Maybe it was her consciousness being pushed out of this reality or timeline, but everything felt muddled and unclear like the walls of the bathroom were closing in around her and pushing her away. Or...maybe she was dying? Ascending to the heavens?

 

_God, I hope not..._

 

The last few things she remembered was feeling something wet drip down on her face. Blackwell was bad enough to skip on proper plumbing, but that was hard to believe since Chloe’s face was right on top of hers.

 

_Fuck, I made her cry._

 

“Don’t cry,” Max tried to say, but nothing really came out of her mouth except for air. That seemed to make Chloe even more hysterical.

 

 _Good one, genius._ Max felt sleepy, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to die. She hoped she was just passing out, because not being able to kiss Chloe on better circumstances when it wasn’t a dare or they were deciding on their fates over the fabric of space and time made her want to cry, too.

 

Max decided, as she slipped out of consciousness, that it was better her than Chloe.

 

She was okay with this ending.

  


* * *

  
  


It was painfully bright.

 

That scared Max--she didn’t _actually_ want to die!

 

But then she felt heavy--weighed down. It _was_ bright, but not sunshine bright--fluorescent bright, light that had no warmth and made Max immediately uncomfortable. When she opened her eyes, it was still incredibly difficult to see, a feeling akin to getting swimming goggles foggy and having to dip them in the water.  A few more blinks and Max was able to see the outline of a hazy...

 

_...Oh, ew._

 

She hated hospitals, even more so since that’s where she’d last seen Kate. The only good things about hospitals were the vending machines. She could feel her stomach grumble at the thought of eating Peanut M&M’s and drinking cheap coffee from the self-serve.

 

_Okay, stop torturing yourself._

 

She strained her neck to look up at whatever colorful thing was hovering to her right. Big blobs turned into balloons that read _Get Well Soon!_ in a cheesy, cursive font. But it was the thing next to the balloons that really caught her eye; an IV drip.

 

Max was in complete denial about the whole ordeal of getting shot until she felt an incredibly hard ache near her shoulder. She winced and hissed through closed teeth.

 

“Ah, fuck,” she whispered hoarsely. Her mouth was dry and she probably had a major case of morning breath. She strained her eyes to look at her battle wounds without moving her body too much, not that she could move much anyway. Whatever the damage was, it was heavily bandaged, and it hurt like a bitch.

 

She tried to lift her good arm, but something heavy was keeping her from doing so. She frowned and looked down.

 

_Oh my god._

 

The tears hit faster than she could process. Chloe was right there next to her, asleep but...alive. She was _alive_. Max stared at her as the tears fell, unable to bring herself to move a muscle. If this was some cruel dream, she never wanted to wake up, much less move and have the illusion disappear. She realized the reason she couldn't move her hand was because Chloe had fallen asleep on top of it, her head resting on Max’s fingertips. Chloe's hand was covering the IV as she held onto Max’s, probably waiting for her to wake up. Max finally worked up the courage to shakily lift her hand and rest it on Chloe's cheek. Her eye's blinked and suddenly went wide as her head shot up.

 

“Max?” she asked, her voice breaking.

 

“I did it,” Max sniffled, smiling through tears. That’s all she could manage to say, her mind in the midst of processing what happened; _I did it! She’s safe! I saved her!_

 

Chloe gasped sharply and lunged toward Max, sobbing into her neck. Max snaked her arm around her back and pulled on Chloe’s shirt to bring her closer. Her shoulder burned something awful but she couldn’t bring herself to care too much about it.

 

“I was so fucking scared!” Chloe’s voice was hot against her neck. Max could feel the tears on her skin as she heaved with sobs. Even though her shoulder was aching, even though her throat was dry and sore, even though she probably looked a hot mess, none of it even mattered. Chloe was here. She was _here._ Alive, unscathed, rosy-cheeked, and hugging Max. To feel her physically against her was overwhelming, but it anchored her into the idea that Chloe was anything but a hallucination.

 

Suddenly, Chloe lurched back, her eyes wide. Her hands hovered cautiously toward Max as if she were a small rabbit. “Oh, shit! I-I wasn’t thinking--you’re hurt--”

 

“Chloe...” Max sniffled as tried her name, scared that she would accidentally speak her out of existence. “I’m so happy...you’re okay.”

 

“Me?” Chloe laughed, sniffling into her sleeve and wiping her eyes. “Jesus, Max, I’m fine! You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

“But I do,” Max said, the tears coming back. “I worked so hard to save you.”

 

Chloe laughed nervously. “I still think you’re loopy from the drugs. O-oh, what am I thinking? I should go get a nurse--”

 

Max’s hand clamped around Chloe’s sleeve. “Wait, Chloe. I-I want to tell you something first.”

 

Chloe’s brows knit together. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by a hushed: “Oh--oh, my!”

 

Both of them turned to see a girl carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, with long, dirty blonde hair draped around her shoulders. She had a familiar black cardigan, with a light coral button-down and a white skirt. A little golden cross on a fine chain dangled below the collar.

 

“Kate,” Max felt her eyes swell. She couldn’t believe it--she was _alive._ The last time Max saw Kate Marsh, she had been soaked in rain, helpless and alone in her suffering. Max remembered herself running forward as she stepped back off the ledge of Blackwell. But she was here, bright-eyed and full of life. Max shifted as Kate scurried to the opposite side of her hospital bed and snaked her arm around her neck in a soft embrace.

 

“Oh, thank God, thank God you’re okay!” Kate pulled away and Max saw how tired her eyes looked.

 

“Kate, Kate, I’ve missed you so much...” Max whispered, crying again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. I must’ve worried you...”

 

“Max, what are you talking about? Please, you can’t apologize after all you’ve been through! Oh, this past week has felt like forever since you got hurt.”

 

Max blinked. _What? A week?_ “How...how long have I been out?”

 

Kate brought a hand up to her mouth. “Oh! I-I thought...none of the nurses visited you yet? Hold on!”

 

She turned and scampered to the door, only to turn around and place the bouquet on the table next to Max’s bed. “I’ll be right back!” In a blink, she was out the door in search of a nurse.

 

“Max,” Chloe said. “You wanted to tell me something?”

 

“Oh, uh--”

 

“Hi, Max,” said a calm, warm voice. Two nurses walk in behind a male doctor, who smiles sweetly.

 

_Dang, Kate was fast._

 

“I’m Dr. Nguyen,” said the man. He had salt and pepper hair and noticeable laugh lines. “We’re gonna need to do a few tests to see how you’re holding up. You suffered a pretty hard hit.” He then turned to Kate and Chloe. “Can we ask for a bit of privacy, ladies?”

 

“Oh, s-sure!” Kate stammered. “Yes, okay, we’ll be outside.” She and Chloe headed to the door, but Chloe hesitated at the entrance.

 

“I’ll be back, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Max mouthed, her thoughts and fears racing as she watched them walk out.

  


* * *

  
  


After a series of tests and a lecture of what was wrong with her, Max wasn’t sure how she could process it all while all of these people were in her hospital room. Her parents had flown down from Seattle the day she was shot, and they were the typical overbearing, doting type. Her father, Ryan, was adamant on taking her back to Seattle, which was typical given that she’d just been shot. Her mother, Vanessa, was just happy she was okay. Joyce came by, still wearing her Two Whales Diner uniform, as if she left in the middle of a shift (it was revealed later that she did, bless that woman). Warren was a total wreck when he came in to visit Max, which she expected, but it still broke her heart to see him sporting a tough-guy persona when she could tell he was falling apart at the seams. Kate and Chloe hadn’t left her side since they arrived. A few other classmates came to visit her, which was sorta flattering in a weird way; even Principal Wells dropped off a card and some flowers, which was REALLY weird.

 

But all Max could focus on in the midst of her family and friends, the piles of _Get Well_ cards, vases of flowers, and obnoxiously bright balloons, was the spoonfuls of pudding she kept shoveling into her mouth as she processed each thought that passed through her brain.

 

_A punctured lung, and a broken arm..._

 

Another spoonful of pudding.

 

_The bullet barely missed the pulmonary artery..._

 

Another spoonful.

 

_I was seconds away from dying..._

 

Another.

 

_Nathan was arrested after I got shot, but I don’t really know what happened after...I need to figure that out..._

 

Another.

 

_I was in a medically induced coma for five days...Has it really been a week?_

 

Another.

 

 _But, Chloe’s still alive_ , a _nd there’s no storm. Why is there no storm?_

 

Another.

 

_How? Why? Why did nothing happen this time? What if by the end of the day, it happens? People could still die. Chloe could still die. And, fuck, now my parents are wrapped up in this mess, could they die? What if--_

 

In the midst of Max’s _what if’s,_ her spoon came up empty. She stared at the pudding cup, as if almost in a trance.

 

... _What was different this time?_

 

“Honey?” Vanessa Caufield’s voice rang out above the fog of Max’s head. “Do you want more?”

 

Max looked up at her mother’s smile, then back down, suddenly feeling sick. “No, no thanks... I’m okay, Mom.”

 

Vanessa huffed out a small laugh. She looked around at Warren, Kate, and Chloe, who’d all passed out on the little green couch next to the window looking outside, beams of the setting sun blanketing the three friends. Joyce and her dad were talking quietly outside in the hall, probably for a much-needed coffee break. Max felt exhausted herself, even after she technically slept for a full week. But she couldn’t help but think about the storm, and Chloe, even the fact that Kate was still okay boggled her mind; apparently, drama at Blackwell died down and was taken over by the news that Max was nearly killed by Nathan Prescott, so bullying ceased for Kate. She was also so preoccupied with visiting Max that she’d probably forgotten about the drugging incident. Unless this was a timeline where that didn’t happen? She had so many questions that would probably go unanswered for a while, and that was so _fucking_ frustrating.

 

“Maxine,” her mother sang as she waved in front of her face.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I asked if you wanted Dad and me to stay here with you tonight.”

 

“O-oh, um...I think I’ll be okay.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Max sighed. “I guess I just...need some time, at least for a few hours. It’s been kinda... overwhelming.”

 

“Okay, sweetie. We’re only a call and a hotel away. In the meantime, I’ll get these kiddos back home, you can visit some more tomorrow.” Max’s mom reached over to touch Warren’s shoulder.

 

“Wait, mom. I actually want to talk to them--before they leave. If that’s okay?”

 

“I don’t see why not.” She grinned at Max. “You have such a loving friend group here, and I’m glad you and Chloe are still close.”

 

That one hurt. Max had hardly spoken a word to Chloe in this timeline. As far as she knew, Chloe could still be mad at her for not telling her she was back in Arcadia...or the fact that she ghosted her for five years. That wasn’t going to be a fun moment to relive.

 

Vanessa tapped Warren’s shoulder. He awoke with a start, drooling out the side of his mouth. “H-huh? Wassit? What?”

 

“I’ll be out in the hall if you need a ride, just wanted to let you guys know Max wanted to talk to you all a bit before you left.”

 

“Oh,” Warren blushed as he wiped the drool from his jaw. “I have my car, and me or Chloe can drive Kate home, but thanks, Mrs. Caulfield.”

 

Vanessa nodded, then stepped over to give Max a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be back tomorrow. They’ll discharge you Monday morning--you want to go to Two Whales for celebratory waffles?”

 

“God, yes,” Max said. Her mouth practically watered at the thought. “Love you, Mom. See you tomorrow”

 

“Love you, honey. Get some rest.”

 

Max watched as her mother turned back out into the hallway. Her father came in shortly after to kiss her goodbye, followed by Joyce, who’d run out to her car to give her a Beanie Baby--a doe, something she’d been holding on to until Max woke up. The thought was heartwarming, but Max felt a weird chill as she looked into the Beanie Baby’s beady little eyes. As soon as Joyce exited her room, Chloe and Kate stirred from their sleep.

 

“Hi, Max,” Kate yawned. “Is everything okay? Do we need to grab a nurse?”

 

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Max said, even though everything was not fine. “I, uh...did...did anything weird happen this week?”

 

Chloe frowned. “Uh, weird how?”

 

Max shrugged, or she shrugged as much as she could with a bullet wound. “Like...supernatural weather occurrences weird? Eclipses, spontaneous snowstorms, giant tornadoes kinda weird?”

 

“What? No,” said Warren, scratching the back of his neck. “Aside from your accident and Nathan getting arrested for being a psychopath, that’s pretty much it.”

 

 _That can’t be the only thing..._ “Are you sure?”

 

“Dude, are you okay?” Chloe asked.

 

Max reeled herself in and laughed it off. “Y-yeah, I think I just had...weird, premonition-y dreams while I was out. They felt...too real, yanno?”

 

Kate clasped her hands together as she smiled. “You have nothing to worry about, Max. Nathan’s going away for a long time, you’re going to be discharged on Monday. We can get some tea, like old times, right?”

 

“Absolutely, I’m still down for tea. Something calm, yeah?”

 

“Of course!” Kate checked her phone out of habit, then gasped. “Oh, gosh, I have to get back--I need to feed my rabbit--”

 

“Alice,” Max blurted out, not thinking twice.

 

“Y-yeah, how...?”

 

“I just remembered you talking about her a few times,” Max said, trying to bullshit her way out of her own blunder. “I would love to meet her sometime, though.”

 

Kate smiled. “I’d love that, and she would, too. She’s very friendly!” She started gathering up her things.

 

“Oh, I can give you a ride if you need it?” Warren offered. Kate agreed, and they both said their goodbyes, waving to Max as they fell in line out the door.

 

Chloe moved to grab her jacket, the glint of her necklace catching Max’s eye.

 

“Chloe?”

 

The girl stopped. Her head whipped up in surprise, a strand of blue hair falling between her eyes. Max let out a sigh as if she’d been holding her breath, and gathered her courage. “I...damn I’m not really sure how to say this.”

 

Chloe bundled her jacket and folded her arms over her stomach. Max swallowed, trying not to picture a blooming spot of blood underneath her arms, and instead looked at where she was picking at her cuticles.

 

“I...uh...this is gonna sound really weird.”

 

Chloe shook her head dismissively, keeping her eyes on Max as she waited for her response. “Oookay?”

 

“Well,” Max muttered. How do you explain to your best friend, right after you’d been shot by a sadistic druggie, after you hadn’t uttered a word for 5 years because you were too much of a coward, that suddenly you have magic time powers that even the X-Men wouldn’t want?

 

Before she could pick up her sentence, Vanessa appeared in the doorway, tapping her knuckles against the wall.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, “I know I said I was leaving, but you have one more visitor.”

 

 _Huh?_ Everyone she practically knew had already visited her...well, except for Victoria, but that would’ve been apocalypse-weird for sure.

 

“Just for a bit, hun, he wanted to say a quick hello and drop off a card.” Vanessa gave a big, toothy grin. “Just humor me, I think you’ll be glad to see him!”

 

_...Him?_

 

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Vanessa regarded the shadow before moving back into the hallway, and Max could barely hear the _tap, tap, tap_ of the dark brown leather shoes that peeked around the corner, followed by dark gray slacks, a white dress shirt--

 

Max didn’t even realize she had torn the skin of her cuticles; her thumb bled onto her hospital blanket. Her chest erupted in the kind of electrical shock waves that you get when you hear the news of a fatally sick family member. The hospital lights seemed to get brighter and whiter as if they were shining directly on her. Max could’ve sworn the lights above her were flashing, and the air had an all too familiar chill. She felt like crying, throwing up, screaming, hiding, but all she could do was stare at the figure behind the thick-rimmed glasses, with a little pink envelope tucked into his coat pocket.

 

“Hello, Max,” said Mark Jefferson. “It’s good to see you’re doing well.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'know that one game? Life is Strange? You know, the one that ended like, 4 years ago and ripped my baby-gay heart out?  
> Well, I was so peeved by the ending choices that I just wasn't having it, and decided that 4 YEARS LATER I needed to write out a better ending. 
> 
> I know a lot of other writers have already done this before and I kinda missed my shot when AO3 was ripe with alternate endings and AUs about LIS but...hey, better late than never, right? 
> 
> I also wanted to make this a sort of "choose your own adventure" kinda story, just to carry some of the game's mechanics over to writing format, which won't appear until later chapters, but hopefully it'll play out well--I've never done anything like it and it's very time-consuming, but I think it'll be worth it in the end; I've already had some beta readers say that they're really excited about this format of storytelling so....readers give me strength, haha~
> 
> Also, to anyone who was following me earlier, you might recognize this story--that's because I had posted it already! But I wasn't happy with the direction the plot was taking, so I shelved it until the urge to write it again struck me 2 weeks ago and I couldn't stop thinking about all the different possibilities and scenarios with this new direction. I swear I've been possessed by the spirit of the game. 
> 
> In all seriousness, thank you to anyone who gives this little project a read! It'll be nice to see if the fandom is still alive after all this time, haha!
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are always welcome as long as y'all are nice to each other (and to me please be gentle), and I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do writing it! <3


	2. The Devil Wears Oxford

  


Max could hardly compute what’s going through her brain anymore. All she could do was stare at Mark Jefferson. The man she once looked up to as a mentor and a friend, who was also the man that killed Rachel Amber, who also drugged so, _so_ many girls, including Max; she could practically feel the duct tape restricting her wrists and ankles into place as Jefferson violated her with pictures, horrible disgusting pictures...

 

He now stood in front of her, calm and collected, as if he’d always been that way; he had an air about him of charisma, but Max knew more than anyone that it was a facade. Her fear was suddenly partnered with a rage that boiled hot in her gut.

 

How could she have been so stupid? How could she _forget?_ And how is Jefferson not in jail? Nathan’s arrest should’ve led the police right to him! What went wrong?

 

_What did I do wrong?_

 

“Heard you were awake,” said Jefferson.

 

Max just stared blankly in response.

 

“...I wanted to come by a pay a visit. It’s a shame what happened with Nathan Prescott, but I’m glad you’re okay.” Jefferson cleared his throat as he pulled the card from his pocket. “I, uh, I have a card for you.”

 

After Max didn’t answer, Chloe gestured to the table next to Max’s hospital bed. “You can set it there, if you want.”

 

“Right,” said Jefferson. As he set the card on the table, he reached a hand across to Chloe. The move made Max flinch involuntarily, and she fought the urge to scream. The way Chloe took his hand like it was nothing made her want to push him away. The image of Chloe falling as a bullet pierce her skull flashed in her mind. “I’m Mark Jefferson, but you can call me Mark. I’m Max’s photography teacher.”

 

 _Fuck no you’re not! You’re not my_ anything!

 

“Chloe Price,” she said. “That’s hella cool.”

 

“Yes, I’d like to think so,” he said with a chuckle. “Ah well, it’s getting late. You look rather tired, Max, so I’ll leave you to it. Hope to see you in class again.”

 

“Yeah,” muttered Max. “Looking forward to it.”

 

Max didn’t even notice him leaving. All she could do was sit there. She felt helpless, like she always did, trapped in one spot, watching from a glass window as the world outside moved on without her. What’s worse is that the world was plummeting into hell, and she caused it. This was the price she had to pay for saving Chloe.

 

“Hello? Earth to Max?” Chloe peered into Max’s face. Suddenly, her stomach caught up with her, and Max motioned for the tray next to her as she dry-heaved. Chloe grabbed the tray and Max emptied her stomach. God, she never wanted to eat pudding again after that. She didn’t realize the amount of panic she’d been holding in.

 

“Jesus,” Chloe placed her hand on Max’s back, tucking stray hairs behind Max’s ear. “Are you okay?!”

 

“No,” Max gasped into the tray. “No, I’m not. He’s...he’s not supposed to be here.”

 

“What are you even saying?”

 

“J-Jefferson,” Max huffed, tears falling into the tray as she caught her breath. “I-I-I can’t--I don’t--he’s supposed to be dead--”

 

“Max, you’re scaring me--”

 

“Chloe,” Max sighed, pushing the tray away. Her hands were shaking a wet with sweat. “I...I need to tell you something that’s gonna sound fucking crazy. And I know I don’t deserve your friendship after avoiding you for so long, but I need to tell someone, and I trust you.”

 

Chloe shook her head. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

 

 

* * *

  
  


The clock above Max’s medical chart ticked agonizingly slow. It was well past visiting hours, but Max couldn’t’ve cared less. She watched Chloe’s expression after she shared her terror, about discovering her powers, how she broke one timeline into multiple, how she saw Chloe die over and over and over again for what felt like years.  How Jefferson was here, even though Max saw David shoot him right in front of her. How she tried to fix everything, but it all kept falling apart.

 

And now it felt like Chloe was falling apart right in front of her.

 

“Please say something,” Max said, frustrated with the silence. She picked absently at the bandaid covering her torn cuticle, wanting to rip it off completely.

 

Chloe scoffed. “What--what do you expect me to say, Max?” She threw her hands up in the air. “I--I know you said for me to not call you crazy, but, no offense, this sounds _fucking_ crazy!”

 

“ _I know,_ ” Max hissed, motioning for her to keep her voice low. “Trust me, I know. I wouldn’t believe me either.”

 

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. Finally:

 

“Prove it.”

 

Max sighed. “Chloe--”

 

“Prove it! Then I’ll believe you, and we can both be crazy.”

 

Max clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to use her powers, never again. What if it triggered the storm, or worse? But...maybe there was a way to convince her without using them. Max huffed and tried to recount how she’d proven it the first time; it felt like forever ago.

 

“...Okay,” Max exhaled. “Okay, we haven’t seen each other for 5 years up until I got shot, right?”

 

“Yeah,” said Chloe, a hint of a bite in her answer.

 

“Well, I’ve actually already seen you, this same exact week, and I knew exactly what was in your pockets.” Max scratched her head. “You have...a parking ticket that you received at... _fuck_...ah, 11--no, 10:34 AM.” She racked her brain, wishing she could pull the information out of her ear. “You have a panda keychain on your keys--it’s a little robot panda. And...a pack of seven cigarettes, but you’ve probably used them all by the end of this week. And...what else...Eighty...eighty-six cents.”

 

Chloe raised an eyebrow as she crossed her arms, sitting back in the chair she’d set up next to Max’s side. “...You can’t possibly know that.”  


“Check your pockets,” Max said, crossing her arms--well, arm. “I know you, Price, you’ve been wearing those same jeans all week, and given how tired you look, I doubt you even changed out of that shirt, too.”

 

Chloe huffed as she rummaged through her pant pockets. “Fine, fine, I’ll humor you. But don’t expect me to...”

 

Just as Max had hoped; her keys, the money, the parking ticket. Sans the seven cigarettes, it was all there. All of it.

 

“Max.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Max chuckled. “I told you.”

 

Chloe rubbed the sides of her temples, eerily similar to the same time that they were at the Two Whales, conducting this same experiment.

 

“If you need more proof,” said Max. “I can tell you about things I haven’t been told yet.”

 

Chloe leaned forward in her chair as she scooped her belongings back into her pockets. “Okay, you know I’m too curious for my own good. Tell me some juicy Arcadia secrets, Caulfield.”

 

Max pondered for a bit. She didn’t know what was different about this timeline. Other than the fact that Kate wore her hair down, which wasn’t a huge, universe-shattering revelation, the only thing out of place was the fact that Nathan Prescott was in jail, and Jefferson escaped his damnation scott-free. Did that mean that they found Rachel’s body? And if they did, did Jefferson find a way to pin it all on Nathan to keep his grimy hands clean? Max doubted that asking about Rachel would be a good topic--she needed more information, first. And she needed a story that wouldn’t make Chloe’s brain implode anymore than it already was with the whole time-power deal.

 

A mental light bulb went off in her head. “You owe Frank Bowers a shit-ton of drug money. Over $5,000, to be exact.”

 

Chloe’s mouth dropped open. “H-how--no, I--I mean, how do you know Frank? Not that I...”

 

“Because I have fucking time powers!” Max said, throwing her good hand up in exasperation. “There was a reality where we went to go confront him about Rachel Amber’s disappearance, and you gave him money to pay off your debt--but you stole it from the school, which was supposed to be for the handicap fund, might I add.”

 

Chloe’s face dropped.

 

“And no, we’re not going to the school to steal that money again.”

 

“No, it’s not that...”

 

Max’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

 

Chloe scooted a little closer to Max. “Max, what...what happened to Rachel? In your timeline?”

 

 _Shit, you idiot!_ Max swallowed, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak normally. “I...uh...I don’t know, Chloe--I mean it could be different in this timeline--”

 

“Max, don’t play with me,” Chloe snapped. She took a deep breath and laced her hand through Max’s fingers. Max tried not to think about the time they held hands countless times in the previous timeline. “Just-just tell me, okay? I can handle it.”

 

Max looked into Chloe’s eyes. They were tired, dull, like the fire had been sucked out of her. Max always thought she was deplorable, like her life didn’t matter as long as Chloe was okay, but now she realized that might’ve been too much for her; first her father, then Rachel, and if it’d been Max to go...would that have been her breaking point?

 

Max didn’t even realize that her eyes were burning, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. She looked down at the floor, not sure how to break her friend’s heart.

 

“Max,” Chloe’s voice echoed, quiet but stern. “What happened to Rachel?”

 

Max felt her throat closing up.

 

“I...” She couldn’t help it as the tears rolled down her face and disappeared into the knit of the hospital blanket.

 

“She...she was murdered.”

 

When Chloe didn’t say anything, Max turned and saw that she was staring off into a corner of the room, past Max.

 

“C-Chloe--”

 

“Who killed her?”

 

Max let in a shaky breath. “...Nathan Prescott.”

 

Chloe finally sank back into her chair. Her eyes burned with tears and her lip quivered. “That fucking piece of shit...”

 

Max blinked her tears away. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I wanted to save her, but the harder I tried to alter everything, the messier things got, and I...I couldn’t do it without losing you, too.”

 

Max could see the rage rising in Chloe’s face. “It should’ve been me.”

 

“No,” Max shook her head. “No, Chloe, I worked too hard to get here! You’re not throwing your life away, not after I’ve seen you die all those times--”

 

“Then I’ll kill him,” she muttered, standing up so fast her chair nearly knocked over. She started to turn away from Max. “I’ll kill that fucking Prescott myself. At least my life will be of some use--”

 

Max panicked and reached out with both hands. She didn’t care how much her arm hurt, or how much her shoulder screamed in pain; she grabbed Chloe’s jacket and dug her fingers into the fabric as hard as she could, her hands shaking weakly. Chloe stopped dead, watching Max in silence.

 

“You don’t _get_ it!” Max cried. “If you charge headfirst into this, you’ll die! If you let your anger take hold of you, even for a moment, you’ll die!” She shook her head, her chest heaving with sobs. “I did not crawl on my hands and knees through hell just so you could get yourself killed again! Do you hear me Chloe Price?!”

 

That seemed to get through to her. Chloe’s shoulders relaxed, and the rage faded away. Her eyes started to look tired again.

 

Max’s nails dug deeper into her jacket. “Please,” she whispered, her voice thick with pain. “Please, promise me. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Promise me you’ll stay alive--for me?”

 

Chloe bit her lip. “Max--”

“Promise me!” Max cried, shaking her grip on Chloe.

 

Chloe exhaled, then finally:

 

“I promise.”

 

Max finally let go, falling back into her bed. She winced and noticed that her shoulder was bleeding. She couldn’t tell if she was crying from the pain or crying from how stressed and exhausted she was.

 

“I-I’ll go get a nurse,” Chloe said, turning to leave.

 

“Wait,” said Max.

 

Chloe paused.

 

“I know...how much Rachel meant to you. And I’ll help you get revenge for her death. But we need to tread carefully.” Max wiped the rest of her tears away. “When I get out of here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure of it. I swear it.”

 

Chloe nodded. “O-okay...okay.”

 

“And, Chlo?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Max raised her good hand, smiling weakly. “I have a call button.”

 

Chloe sighed, a smile peeking through. “Oh, right...”

 

Max wiped her eyes, sniffling. “I’ll...see you in the morning, okay?”

 

“Okay,” said Chloe. She shuffled back over, almost sheepish in nature, and gave Max a gentle embrace. “‘Night, Max.”

 

“‘Night.”

 

She watched as Chloe waved goodbye, and tried not to think about the possibility that it would be the last time she saw her. She pressed the call button and waited for the nurse, staring up at the ceiling. It was so overwhelming at times, and she wished she’d never used her powers to begin with--but she knew this timeline was worth fighting for. There was a good ending at the end of this story, she just had to believe in that much.

 

Max’s eyes trailed to the little side table next to her, at the assortment of cards, some of which stood on their spines. Max could read little cursive words on the insides, where they were decorated with different signatures. She’d gone through all of them, finding herself in a state of disbelief that all these people cared about her so much.

 

There was only one left, still tucked away in its envelope--Mark Jefferson’s card.

 

Max stared at it for a while. Then, carefully, she reached over and pinched it between her fingers, sliding it over to herself. She brought it to her face, looking at Jefferson’s penmanship. She had seen him write her name out on several essays for class, and she remembered how nice it felt to get a note from him for a job well-done. But now, it just made her want to throw up. Seeing her name in his writing--it looked almost alien now.

 

Max studied it one last time, before placing it between both hands.

 

She tore it right down the middle and threw both halves into the trash bin.

  
  



End file.
